


A Better World

by Valaxiom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dad 76, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Just Want To Cry About Overwatch, Jack Morrison - Freeform, M/M, Team Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 20:11:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7120792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaxiom/pseuds/Valaxiom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving Winston's Overwatch Recall message, Soldier 76 arrives at the first gathering of the resurrected organization and is both skeptical and guilty. Seeing familiar faces brings back memories and seeing new ones brings forth determination. Takes place after Recall and Alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better World

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first time I've written a fanfic since I was like 13 and super into the Inheritance Cycle. I guess Overwatch brought my fanfic writer self out of the shadows. Please enjoy!

Upon entering Watchpoint: Gibraltar, the first thought to enter the mind of the man who had been Jack Morrison was _we’re doomed._

This was what was left of their grand organization? Old men and children? The room was full of delusional ex-and-wanna-be heroes who were desperate to make a difference and to save the world. It was (his fault) a joke, it was horrifying, it was impossible, but-

He couldn’t just leave them. Soldier 76 had come out of the shadows for a reason, and that reason was guilt, with a shadow of his old responsibility. Jack Morrison had cared about his team, had fought for them and with them, and to abandon these sad remnants all over again... they’d be even more hopeless than they already were. God, had some of them ever even held a gun-

Soldier 76’s thoughts were tugged out of their despairing spiral by Reinhardt’s heavy hand clapping his shoulder. _Uh oh._

“Hello, Crusader,” he said stiffly. He would have inched away from the massive veteran of the original Overwatch team, but despite his advanced age, Reinhardt’s strength showed no signs of deterioration.

“Greetings, Soldier! How have the years been, my friend?” The older man’s booming voice drew attention from the rest of the room, which was full of mingling Overwatch agents getting ready for Winston’s official address to them. The urge to shrink away, to deflect attention, to hide from the stares was unbearable. Jack Morrison wouldn’t have flinched. Jack Morrison would have taken the attention and made it beautiful and useful, inspiring those around him to be better.

But Soldier 76 was not Jack Morrison, and he wordlessly removed Reinhardt’s hand from its grip upon his shoulder (it took more effort than he expected, but the super-soldier program had been superior to any normal human abilities nature could have produced), then strode to the back of the room. He did not deserve to be called “friend,” not after what he had put them through. He remembered Angela’s reaction when she had found him in the rubble of the Swiss HQ, when he had told her to declare him missing, presumed dead. She had been enraged. Mercy, the battlefield healer, was never angry, but Dr. Zeigler had a shorter fuse than one would expect from a professional.

Soldier 76 had let the media and most of the former organization of Overwatch mourn the tragic loss of Jack Morrison. Of course, some had found out, or Angela had been forced to tell them. Jack Morrison’s friends were stubborn, and hadn’t been willing to accept that their leader and friend had simply disappeared into thin air. Their relentlessness had mostly frustrated and exasperated Soldier 76, but a small part of him was grateful. The fact that people were still looking for the truth about Jack Morrison was a testament to the relationships he’d built up with the people around him. Granted, that small part was also full of guilt and shame at his own actions towards his former comrades (he was so guiltily relieved that he hadn’t had to tell Lena or Winston about how he’d abandoned them), but the cold persona of Soldier 76 refused to allow the weaknesses that such feelings brought out in him.

He still hadn’t seen any of them since that incident, not up close, not long enough to have the decent conversations he owed them. The explanations he owed them. This was mostly his own doing; they deserved better than to know that the honourable man they had followed had turned into a ruthless vigilante. But at least he hadn’t turned out like Reyes had-

A sudden change in the tone of the room caught his attention. Winston had entered, with Tracer bobbing cheerfully alongside him. Mercy followed behind them, looking stern but controlled. Soldier 76 was extremely grateful for his visor- it kept him from being forced to meet Mercy’s accusing gaze or Tracer’s hopeful puppy-face. Winston saw him, but didn’t really react. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

“You all know why you’re here,” Winston began. He sounded tired, but there was still the same eager energy about his words which had always been there. “The world is falling apart. A mysterious new organization has taken it upon itself to stir up tensions between humans and omnics. Ex-Overwatch agents are being assassinated in their homes while the authorities turn a blind eye. A second Omnic Crisis is underway this very minute. Gang violence has reached record heights in countries across the world. Big corporations are manipulating governments into compliance on the threat of economic sanctions or worse. All this chaos, and nothing to prevent it. The United Nations is powerless and the Petras Act has backfired spectacularly. The old Overwatch certainly had its flaws, but at its heart, it was full of good, courageous people who wanted a simple goal- a safer world for everyone who inhabited it.” Winston paused, looked over the room.

“We need heroes. This is not an easy request to make of you; I know that many of you have other commitments, or have moved on from the past, or simply don’t feel like this is a good idea.” Soldier 76 noticed that he glanced at Mercy as he said that.

“Unfortunately, we need you all, and we need Overwatch back. You’ve all shown an interest in joining or rejoining as agents. This is not a decision to be made lightly. The risks are high: we will be acting as an illegal organization, with no official rights or backup. If captured, by governments or... or other organizations, you will likely not survive. We will be treated as terrorists, hunted by the United Nations and condemned by the media. We must also put any new agents through a screening process, to be sure that everyone we recruit is trustworthy and fully committed. You may leave at any time, but you must swear to never inform on us to any other parties, because the dangers are real.

“Recently, as I mentioned earlier, several former agents were murdered by an unknown assailant. They deserved better than that. You deserve better than that. That, in fact, is a large part of the reason I initiated the Recall sequence- this base was infiltrated not too long ago by agents of an organization known as Talon. They nearly succeeded in downloading a list of all former and prospective Overwatch agents and their personal information. Whatever they needed this information for, it is safe to say that they did not mean well.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked a man near the front. He was wearing a cowboy hat and held himself like Robocop- it was McCree, formerly a Blackwatch agent under Reyes. Jack Morrison had liked him well enough, for a Blackwatch agent, but after what had happened in Switzerland with Reyes, all the former Blackwatch agents were suspect. Even though McCree had ostensibly left Overwatch before the coup, Soldier: 76 knew how close he'd been with Reyes. Any possibility, however slight, of him knowing what the Blackwatch Commander had been up to was enough to damn him in Morrison's eyes. 

“Well, the amount of force they used to attempt to gain the information was a bit of a giveaway,” said Winston wryly. He lifted part of his armour from his side. The fur beneath it was burnt and blackened, possibly by electric weapons of some sort. “There is also evidence that they were behind the recent assassination of Tekhartha Mondatta, or at least one of their known agents, Widowmaker, was responsible for his death.”

Tracer’s jaw tightened at that. The assassination had been in King’s Row, right near Lena’s place. It was probable that she had been in the area at the time, possibly even involved in the violent firefight which had been captured on people’s phones and security cameras. Soldier 76 had heard the news, but hadn’t heard many details. Just that the murder, combined with the Second Omnic crisis brewing in Russia, was making the global situation into a powder keg.

Winston talked for a while longer, describing what an average mission would consist of, how teams would be formed, and where they would be stationed. Soldier 76 listened, but didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Jack Morrison, on the other hand, was practically begging to go up to the front of the room and give this ragtag mess of people a united front, something to rally behind.

Jack Morrison, for the first time in years, got his way. Soldier 76 found himself moving through the diverse crowd to the front of the room. He passed faces, new and old, who looked at him with confusion, vague recognition, or fear. Jack Morrison ignored them, and stood next to his friends. His friends, who had never given up on him, who might have hated him, and who definitely needed him now. Lena’s puppy-eyes had gone wide with recognition, and Winston looked nervous. Mercy was as cold as ever, but he thought he saw a glimmer of approval in the way her mouth quirked as he stood next to them.

It was Jack Morrison, not Soldier 76, who removed his visor to face a room full of the past and the future.

“I’m ready to step up and fight for a better world. Who’s with me?”


End file.
